


I Don't Want It

by hufflepuffism (septasonicxx)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Addiction, Dilaudid, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Family, Gen, Season 3, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septasonicxx/pseuds/hufflepuffism
Summary: Ever since his abduction, Reid has secretly struggled with Dilaudid. When his drug use is revealed to the rest of the team, the stress and shame cause him to flee because he's not ready to deal with it yet.Set ambiguously in Season 3 somewhere.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Sorry I'm late

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmm Reid angst 🤤

Reid had forgotten to shut his curtains. That was the first thing he thought when he woke up on Monday morning, with sunlight in his eyes and a crick in his neck. He stretched as he sat up on the sofa, scrunching his eyes shut against the light and yawning. When had he fallen asleep?

Opening his eyes for the second time that morning, he looked over the mess he'd left on his coffee table to try and figure out what he'd been doing before his unexpected nap. There was a cold-case file open, one that he came back to every now and then to see if he might crack it open despite the years that had passed; the novel _Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell_ by Susanna Clarke which he'd gotten halfway through before becoming distracted; half a dozen empty coffee mugs which were in various stages of stacking; a thick stack of papers covered in text he didn't remember printing out or compiling; and –

Shame jolted him fully awake and he reached out, grabbing the bottle of Dilaudid and slipping it into his pocket to get it out of sight. Rubbing a hand over his face, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes again.

It was a good thing that he'd fallen asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten the average recommended hours of sleep for someone his age.

A beeping on his cell phone brought him out of mentally reviewing sleep statistics and he reached to where it had fallen on the floor.

_Briefing in 20._

Another case. Good. He didn't like having so much time to himself anyway.

Heading to the bathroom for a quick shower before he headed out, Reid paused in front of the mirror and stared. His eyes were dark from lack of sleep, his hair was a mess, and he was pretty sure his cheekbones were more prominent than they had been a week ago. He really needed to get some proper food in, soon.

Leaving his reflection behind, he focused on what he could do right now. He showered, dressed, and poured some coffee into a thermos for travel. His satchel was slung on the back of a chair near the front door but he hesitated before picking it up, instead heading back into the bathroom.

Staring down at the crumpled pile of clothes that he'd slept in the night before, his fingers twitched and he clenched his jaw.

 _Leave it_ , Reid told himself. _You're just increasing the likelihood of failure if you take it with you._

But when he left his apartment, the bottle of Dilaudid was hidden snugly at the bottom of his bag.

* * *

When Reid got to the BAU, he made a beeline straight for the kitchenette at the back of the bullpen. He'd finished the coffee in his thermos on the way and now reached for the fresh pot, pouring some into his favourite mug and adding three heaped spoonfuls of sugar – then one more, just to be sure.

He had a headache, although he was trying his best to ignore it. He knew it as the same one he'd been having on and off for the past few months, the one that told him he was getting dangerously close to going into withdrawal.

To combat this, he drank coffee. With a lot of sugar.

Heading over to his desk with his fresh coffee, he put his bag down and began sifting through the files there. He had some paperwork he hadn't done yet, plus a few new government reports he needed to catch up on. Sipping his coffee, he settled himself in his chair and picked up one of the reports.

He had finished two reports and all of his coffee when there was a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, squinting up at Morgan.

"Oh, hey," he said, turning back to the report in his hands.

"Reid," Morgan said sharply. "What are you doing?"

"Hm? I'm just catching up on some work," Reid explained with a shrug, his eyes skimming the page quickly. "Is that a problem?"

"Uh, it is when you're supposed to be in the conference room."

Reid's eyes skittered to a halt and he froze, staring blankly as he reviewed the morning's events in his mind. Of course. He'd gotten a text and that was why he came in. How had he forgotten that between reaching the building and walking to his desk?

"What's going on?" Morgan asked gently.

Clearing his throat and keeping his eyes down, Reid quickly dropped the report and stood up, slinging the strap of his satchel over his shoulder as he began to move towards the conference room.

He'd only taken a few steps when Morgan grabbed his shoulder again and spun him around to face him.

"Oh no you don't," he said with a shake of his head. "Talk to me, kid."

"There's nothing to talk about," Reid said defensively, pulling away from Morgan's grip. "I just forgot."

"You forgot?" Morgan's eyebrows rose skeptically.

"Yeah, so?" Reid snapped.

"Are you having nightmares again?" Morgan demanded.

"No!"

"Reid, you look sick," Morgan said. "If you don't wanna be here, you can go home. Maybe you should get some rest."

"I don't need rest," Reid protested. "I'm fine. I just- I thought I had more time before the briefing, that's all."

Morgan didn't look at all convinced.

Running a hand through his hair anxiously, Reid took the chance to walk away from him and hurried up to the conference room. He slid into an empty chair without meeting anyone's gaze and then looked up at JJ, who stood just to the side of the TV screen showing two male victims.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, ignoring the sound of Morgan entering the room behind him as well as the feel of everyone's eyes on him. "What did I miss?"

JJ exchanged a glance with Hotch before saying, "Las Vegas PD thinks they have a serial killer." She leaned forward to slide a spare file towards him and he took it, busying himself with reading over the information. "Each of them died from a single gunshot wound to the chest and had their wallets stolen."

"So police thought the first one was a botched robbery?" Reid asked, tapping a finger on the table absent-mindedly.

"Exactly," JJ confirmed. "It didn't help that both bodies were found in alleyways."

The file was thin, meaning there wasn't much for them to go on yet. Although the two male victims weren't too far apart in age – one being 35 and the other 41 – their appearances were vastly different, which would make it difficult to narrow down the victimology.

Reid kept tapping his finger on the table as the rest of the team went over some basic assumptions, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. He wished he'd made another cup of coffee before joining the team, but knew he wouldn't have had time if he was to avoid Morgan's questioning.

What would he do once they were on the jet? Stuck in a cramped space with nowhere to run, Morgan was bound to confront him again.

"Reid?"

He looked up into Hotch's dark eyes and mentally berated himself for zoning out again.

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch said, and Reid realised he was the only one still sitting at the conference table. Everyone else had already left.

"Right, of course," Reid said, standing up and clutching the case file to his chest with one hand while his other went down to rest on his bag. "Thanks."

"I need to get some things together," Hotch said slowly. "But I can spare a minute, if you want to talk about-?"

"No! Thanks, but no," Reid said quickly. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's really … It's nothing."

Hotch considered him for a moment longer, his discerning eyes making Reid itch to leave but somehow freezing him in place at the same time.

"Okay," he said at last, giving a short nod and exiting the room.

Reid slowly exhaled and closed his eyes in relief.


	2. Coffee, Reid?

Reid had gone straight to the jet after leaving the conference room. Choosing a seat at the back from where he could watch the whole room, he kept his bag on his lap and went over the case file while waiting for the others to arrive.

He kept his head down, one hand shielding his eyes as he pretended to be especially focused on what he was reading. He managed to avoid small talk this way, as his body language was extremely closed off.

But avoiding conversation was only one reason for shielding his eyes. The other was the headache he still had, which worsened if he moved his hand and let the light in.

Once everyone was on board and the jet was in the air, some quiet conversations started up between a few of them. There wasn't much to be said about the case itself that hadn't already been said in the conference room, so the topics discussed were casual. Morgan was telling JJ a story about one of his sisters and Hotch and Rossi were discussing Jack.

Reid was on edge. The whole time he'd been sitting on the jet, he hadn't been able to read a single word of the file in his hand and he couldn't stop his left leg from jigging up and down. His thoughts were fixed on the bottle at the bottom of his bag … and the bathroom exactly three and a half steps away from him.

No. He didn't need it. He only needed to last another – he glanced at his watch to check – 3 hours 57 minutes and 8 seconds. Then they'd be getting off the jet and he'd be too busy with the rest of the team to go somewhere private. He could make it that long.

He just wished he could distract himself somehow. It felt as though the bottle in his bag was whispering to him, taunting him. He could feel its hard edge pressing against his leg as he jigged and his fingers twitched in desperation to reach for it.

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Prentiss walking past him. She headed past the bathrooms to the kitchenette, calling over her shoulder, "Anyone want a coffee?"

Coffee. That could help. But he would wait until she was done and get some himself so that he didn't have to explain his sugar intake.

Morgan, JJ and Rossi each asked Prentiss for coffee and she made two trips to bring all the cups out. On the second trip she paused beside Reid and asked quietly, "Coffee, Reid?"

"Don't you think if I wanted one, I would have said so?" he asked coldly. He kept his eyes on the file in his hand and clenched his jaw, feeling a rush of rage sweep through him. Why was he so angry? All she'd done was ask a question.

"O-kay," she muttered, passing him to take a cup of coffee to Rossi.

Reid cursed himself for his outburst. Now he didn't feel like he could get up and make his own without being seen as incredibly rude. He was trying his best to accept Prentiss into the team, but it was hard. He was sick of losing people – his father, Elle, Gideon. He was sick of letting people in only for them to leave.

Rubbing his eyes, he gripped his bag firmly and stood up.

"Reid?" Morgan called out from where he was sitting. "You alright?"

Ignoring the question, he slipped into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it with his eyes shut.

He was so tired.

After a moment, he smoothed his hair back from his face and straightened up. Retrieving the bottle of Dilaudid from his bag he examined it, feeling his heart pounding urgently in his chest, begging for just one small dose. The clear liquid looked so harmless in this light.

But it wasn't harmless. He knew from experience that if he gave in now, he would need more again in a mere four hours. His body was building up a resistance too quickly, demanding more and making the cravings stronger every time he tried to resist.

It had been three days since his last dose. He had spent his weekend doing everything he could to distract himself, barely getting any sleep as he fought the mild cravings. He hadn't expected them to ratchet up so drastically from one day to the next.

A soft knock on the door made him look up, and he heard Morgan's muffled voice ask, "You okay in there?"

Could the man never keep anything to himself? First he had to ask loudly if Reid was alright, then he had to cross the entire plane to check on him?

Clenching his fist around the bottle of Dilaudid, he snapped, "I'm fine!"

Angry, his decision was made. He slipped a disposable syringe out of his bag before resting it and the Dilaudid on the sink. Then he pulled out a surgical tube, rolling up his sleeve so that he could tie it around his arm above his elbow.

With the tube secure, he prepped the syringe and injected it through the seal on the bottle to gather some Dilaudid. He was careful, holding it close to his eyes so he could get _just_ the right amount.

Then he brought it over to his arm, chose the largest vein, and injected the Dilaudid.

He pushed the syringe plunger down, feeling the liquid enter his bloodstream. Tossing the disposable syringe onto the sink, he quickly untied the surgical tubing and then closed his eyes as the Dilaudid flooded through his system.

He instantly felt better. He relaxed and felt the hint of a smile cross his face. He could go back out there and help with the case, now. He might even be able to joke with Prentiss if she tried to talk to him again.

He forced himself to focus first on rolling down his sleeve and packing away the bottle, syringe and surgical tubing so it was all hidden in his bag, then let himself out of the bathroom and headed back to his seat. Already his headache had faded as well, so the lights didn't bother him that much.

Morgan had moved closer while Reid was in the bathroom and now looked up to greet him.

"Feeling okay?" he asked quietly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Reid asked with a smile.

"Just checking," Morgan replied with a shrug. He was still watching Reid closely, though.

"I just haven't been sleeping too well lately," Reid admitted, choosing to tell a partial truth in the hopes that it would make the man back off. "You know. Nightmares."

Morgan nodded sympathetically, his eyebrows drawn together.

"You know you can talk to me any time," he said. "I'll always be here for you, kid."

"Thanks," Reid said, picking up the case file which he'd left on the seat beside him and flipping it open to have another look.

Morgan watched him for another moment, then looked back down at the file in his hands.

Skimming all of the case information, Reid could feel his brain making connections and wondered if the others had already spoken of these. He couldn't quite recall what they'd already discussed, but didn't want to bring it up because someone was bound to make a jibe about his memory.

So instead he took out his notebook and jotted down everything he was thinking so that he could refer to it later. He made a list of all possible connections between the two victims, and then started a separate list for a preliminary profile.

Ten minutes later, he found himself distractingly hungry. He knew this was a side effect of the drugs, but he had hoped it wouldn't hit him for another half hour at least. He didn't have any food with him in his bag, so he would have to help himself to one of the fresh sandwiches kept in the jet kitchenette.

Standing and heading over to where the food was kept, he grabbed two simple chicken sandwiches and then also began making himself a cup of coffee. He hesitated before adding extra sugar.

When he returned to his seat, he ate and drank while reading a book he'd brought along in his bag. There was nothing else he could think to add to his case notes for now, after all.

The rest of the flight passed smoothly, but as they were approaching their landing, Reid began to feel agitated again. His four hours of safety were coming to an end and his fingers tapped a frenzied rhythm on his thigh.

"Reid?" Morgan asked, once again looking over at him with a concerned expression.

Reid was sick of being watched so closely. He shut his eyes, trying to calm himself down and ignore the people around him, but that only made his cravings grow stronger.

Thankfully no one else said anything as the jet finished its landing. Reid was already coming up with a plan to feign airsickness so that he could excuse himself to the bathroom again, and had one hand resting on his bag to reassure himself that the Dilaudid was close by.

But when the jet came to a complete stop, Morgan stepped up in front of him before he could even stand.

"What?" Reid asked with a frown.

"Open the bag, Reid," Morgan said quietly, yet firmly.

Panic instantly rushed through him, accompanied by anger that his friend would demand such a thing. Even if he had suspicions, why couldn't he just leave Reid alone? This was none of his business!

"No," Reid said, his grip tightening on his bag as he tucked it closer against his chest.

"Reid-"

"No!" he snapped loudly.

"What's going on?" Hotch asked, a deep frown on his face as he moved closer to them.

"Nothing," Reid told him, pushing Morgan back so that he could stand up. He tried to move past but Morgan grabbed his arm and held him in place, his other hand coming for Reid's bag.

"I'm trying to help you," Morgan said as Reid flinched away, hands gripping the top of his bag to keep it shut.

"Hey," Hotch said firmly. "Morgan, let go." Morgan reluctantly let go of Reid and the bag and took a step back.

" _Thank_ you," Reid said, beginning to move forward again with the intention of getting off the jet quickly.

But now it was Hotch who stopped him, putting an arm out gently to block his path.

"What's going on?" the older man asked again, voice low but serious. His eyebrows were drawn together in a dark line that refused to be ignored. "Reid? What's in the bag?"

"My case files," Reid said quickly, rushing the words together. "Obviously."

"Give it to me," Hotch said. Reid opened his mouth to object, but the man raised his eyebrows and silenced him.

Reid held onto his bag for a moment longer, teeth clenched as he tried to think of a way out of this. But he knew there was none. Hotch would get to the bottom of this sooner or later.

Lowering his gaze, he held out his bag and didn't say anything as Hotch took it.

Morgan stood to the side with his arms folded, watching as Hotch took the bag and rummaged through it. His eyes were narrowed and glanced briefly at Reid when the younger man looked up at him again.

It wasn't long before Hotch retrieved the bottle of Dilaudid. Reid fixed his eyes on the floor, shame engulfing him and pushing back his anger. He didn't want to see the way Hotch would look at him, now that he knew. He wished he could just sink through the floor and disappear.

Hotch didn't speak right away. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh, which was worse. Reid clenched his hands into fists and shut his eyes, asking himself why, _why? Why couldn't I have been strong enough to stop taking it?_

"Tell the others we'll meet them there," Hotch murmured, and Reid glanced up to see Morgan heading off obediently. The rest of the team had been hesitating in the doorway of the jet, waiting to see what was happening.

Hotch caught Reid's gaze now that his eyes were open again and Reid winced at the stern expression which met him.

"How long has this been going on?" Hotch asked once the rest of the team had exited the jet. Morgan had stayed behind after telling them to go on, and now walked back to the two of them and folded his arms again.

"A couple months," Reid muttered, looking down at the floor again and hugging himself. "Seven."

"Seven months?" Morgan exclaimed, earning a sharp glare from Hotch.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Hotch asked.

"I'm handling it," Reid lied.

"You shot up in the bathroom of the jet," Hotch said. "We're on a case right now, and you're high. How exactly is that 'handling it'?"

"You need me," Reid snapped angrily. "I have the highest IQ of anyone here! You need my brain, and for that you need me not to be craving and going into withdrawal. So me _shooting up_ in the _bathroom_ is me just trying to do my job!"

"And you think you can think clearly while on this stuff?" Hotch asked with raised eyebrows. "Junkies aren't exactly known for their clear heads-"

"I'm not a junkie," Reid interrupted, snatching the bottle of Dilaudid out of Hotch's hand. "I'm being careful."

"Reid..." Morgan started.

"No. You know what? Forget it. See if you can solve the case without me, I don't care."

Pulling his bag free of Hotch's grip as well, Reid stalked past them briskly and exited the jet.

He was in his home town, now. He knew his way around and had no intention of going to the Las Vegas Police Department to meet with the rest of the team, but nor did he plan on going home.

It had been years since he last stepped foot in one of the Vegas casinos. He looked different now. How hard could it be to avoid being recognised?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you did!


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